It starts off alright, when everyone is packed on the train, jammed down rows and aisles, sitting there without any smiles.
Mxs clutched in clammy palms and suits, crumpled with dried sweat and tears,
And phones whistling and beeping, iPods and laptops meeping and tweeting,
And passengers sitting there, without any smiles.
Who are they? Who is this man in front of me? What is his life, and what gives it meaning? Is he as unhappy as his ashen face says?
And each page of the mX drips with pixellated lust, or exhales vacuous air into the carriage until I feel I can hardly breathe.
Nausea unexpectedly takes hold and suddenly there is nothing else in the carriage but the nausea and the mX and the people without smiles. And suddenly the carriage is somewhere I don't want to be at all, and I can't see myself ever wanting to be anywhere, or even being happy again.
And everyone is hooked up to iPods, phones and laptops, and I tell myself there's nothing wrong with it, but I fell a sickness in my gut until I have to get out.
And then it's my stop, and I do.
lol jk I heart trains times a million!!! xD
Oh you train poems, you.
1 comment:
mm, train rides can be just like that sometimes.
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